


Let Them Fade

by ElizaStyx



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Caring Danneel, Caring Jensen, Caring Vicky, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, JMDV - Freeform, Kisses, Lots of Misha love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Misha's POV, Misha-centric, Multi, Past, Polyamory, Scars, Short & Sweet, Sweet, because everyone loves Misha, past self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaStyx/pseuds/ElizaStyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Misha looked at them and wondered at the person he used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Them Fade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earth_dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/gifts).



> Uhm, so I promised this to earth_dragon so long ago I don't even know where to hide, I am such a shitty friend. Yeah. Well... I hope this is what you had in mind. It is so gross and I am sorry, if you wanted angst and tears but I just can't because I believe that now everything is rainbows and kittens (just look at all the happy cockles happening, man) so I had to pour all of that love in here. I am complete, utter trash and I honestly can't find it in myself to apologize for that. Because, you know, jmdv is life.

Sometimes Misha looked at them and wondered at the person he used to be. They had appeared such a long time ago, were a thing from the past, yet sometimes he still felt like it had only been yesterday that he looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't stand what he saw in his own eyes. It still sometimes happened that he avoided his own gaze, fearing to find out he hadn't really changed. However, with every passing day these times were becoming more and more rare. Especially now with the ones who would look into his eyes for him.

It was almost like a silent conspiracy surrounding him. He was never actually left completely alone, there was always someone right by his side, even if invisible at the moment, and Misha had never said how insecure, despite his gratitude, he felt about that. Because sometimes he had this feeling he hadn't done anything to deserve that much love and care.

These people knew him ridiculously well, knew when their presence could help and when it wasn't desired, even though he was aware they were always keeping their fingers on the pulse, in case they were suddenly needed. Misha knew that they knew and sometimes, annoying as it was, he allowed himself to muse at it, a small smile of amazement tugging at the corners of his lips.

He honestly couldn't imagine himself ten years ago looking at his scars like that and feeling an odd warmth of comfort rather than an itch pushing him to renew the old wounds. Because now, the only tingling he felt while tracing them with his fingertips in the darkness, was at an almost palpable memory of the sweet touch of caring lips on his wrists and forearms. And even on the inner sides of his thighs, where the scars were faint, almost invisible unless Misha told someone to look there. Or unless that someone had looked and **seen** him whole first, like one certain person with eyes so full of love, Misha sometimes just couldn't bear looking into them.

Sometimes he also wondered if he was imagining things or if the kisses really helped the scars vanish. He could swear that every day they were thinner, less significant, less striking against his tan skin. And while so many years ago he had decided not to let them disappear so that they could constantly remind him that life was never meant to be a bed of roses, now he was letting them fade. Because maybe life was indeed not a path covered with flower petals but it wasn't one strewn with thorns either. There was a balance between the past and current cruelty and the infinite stream of affection found in welcoming arms of people that knew who he was, is, and would be.

Vicky had been his first anchor, the one that silently washed discreet drops of blood off his hands and t-shirts, and hugged him so tightly, wrapping him up in her worn out sweaters as if they were armor that could protect him from everything that was evil.  
The second one was Jensen, who could always somehow see through all of Misha's carefully built facades, look right into his core and kiss his very soul in a way that could cure all the hurt like a magic spell.  
And then there was Danneel, who came unexpected with her silent understanding of the power of hateful words, silly mugs filled with bizzare brands of tea, and laughter that spoke of childhood Misha had never had but with her could truly experience for the first time.

So whenever he looked at the fading scars now, he smiled, both on the sadder days and peaceful mornings, because he knew that while the past could never be really forgotten, the future would be so much more memorable, starting now with Jensen untangling himself from two sets of feminine limbs to sneak up on him and lull him in his arms, whispering "I love you." with that beautiful, shy sincerity in his voice.


End file.
